


The Girl from the Woods

by LondonLane86



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 04:53:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7787503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LondonLane86/pseuds/LondonLane86
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wanted her to feel safe, to trust him, before he took her life away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 01

I was seventeen when I died.

The woods held my scream, until I reached the edge, and collapsed onto the grass, my body bruised and aching as I dragged myself across the earth.

And straight to his backdoor.


	2. 02

I found her the next morning, stretched out on the back deck, her one hand reaching, presumably for the lock of the door. Her other was bent at a horrible angle, obviously broken.

I thought she was dead. But she was breathing slowly, and every so often her body twitched.

My stomach churned as I took in her present form: torn blouse, bruises on every inch of her that I could see, and a ripped skirt. Her brown hair was tangled, matted with leaves and mud.

As she looked at me with fear in her green eyes, I knew she didn't have much time left.

"Don't," she croaked, watching me take a step back. "It's too late."

"What's your name?" I asked as I bent down to touch her face. For comfort. But she flinched.

"Rachel," she answered weakly. 

The left side of her face was covered in something red, but as I looked closer, I saw the shape of a hand in the blood.

I never had the chance to tell her my name.


	3. 03

The cell phone shook in my hand. She hadn't wanted me to call anyone. Why? The question settled in my brain. But what else could I do? Someone needed to come and take her away.

That sounded fucked up, like I didn't want her on my property any longer. Like I wanted to get rid of her—this one living, breathing, beautiful girl with her scared eyes.

Finally, I hit SEND.

"911, what is your emergency?" a kind voice asked.

"There's a girl on my porch," I said calmly. "And she's dead."

The woman asked where I lived, and I told her. When I got off the phone, I waited, but I kept glancing out the back door at Rachel's body.

Should I cover her? I didn't want the animals to—

The thought of anything wild or rabid picking her apart turned my insides once more.

I was too busy being horrified by my own mind that I didn't hear the sirens until they were right outside, and someone was banging on the door.

The paramedics were like locusts—they seemed to be everywhere, and there seemed to be thousands, even though there were two—and then they took her.

I watched as they lifted her onto the gurney and wheeled her out the door.


	4. 04

The police called me that afternoon. They wanted me to come down for questioning. When I showed up, a woman told me to wait in the lobby.

A lean officer with thick brown hair met with me. He took me to a small room with a table and chair and told me to sit. Which I did. Then he pushed a folder toward me.

"What's this?" I asked.

"That's Rachel's autopsy report," he answered.

They were quick.

"But those take—"

"Oh, I'm aware of how long the reports take. But this was a missing girl, so we rushed it."

"Wait, Rachel was missing?"

He nodded. "For a few weeks. How exactly did she come to be on your property?"

"She came out from the woods," I answered.

A look of disbelief crossed his features, and he grunted. "You have a very good imagination."

I glared at him. "I did not hurt her. I didn't even know her."

"Most killers don't know their victims," the officer commented snidely. "And your story of the events seem very far-fetched."

I stared at him, my mouth working to form words, but nothing came.

He stood, then, and as he opened the door to the hall, he looked back at me.

"Do us a favor, boy. Stay in town."


	5. 05

Rachel's family thought she ran away from home. She went to school, to work, and then to a party with her friends. But before she left, she started a conversation with someone who would inevitably change her life.


	6. 06

Her face was all over the news. It was a photo of her from the lacrosse game last year; her brown hair was braided, her green eyes bright and happy.

I always liked that photo.

The low hum of the TV followed me into the bathroom, the reporter's voice a mumble in my ears as I looked in the mirror.

I didn't look like a killer, that's what they'd say. But they were wrong.

Rachel was foolish to trust me.

My hands were still stained with red; it seeped between the lines of my palms, and was embedded under my fingernails. I couldn't get it off.

I knew then that's how they would find me—the guilt was living under my skin for everyone to see.


	7. 07

**Missing teen found dead on property. Owner was brought in for questioning, but was later released upon the insistence that he did not know the deceased. The New Haven police are still looking into the reason for Rachel Saunder's disappearance. If anyone has any information regarding this case, please contact your local authorities.**


	8. 08

Rachel had been missing for several weeks, and I never knew anything about it until I found her bruised and beaten outside my door.

Now that was all I thought about.

"You look like you had a rough night," she said as she poured me another shot of vodka.

"Yes," I answered, taking the glass.

The alcohol burned going down but I didn't care. I needed to forget about her face.

"The girl who died, did you know her?"

I shook my head. "No, I didn't. Did you?"

"I saw her a few times out in town, but never spoke to her. She was a runaway, wasn't she?"

"That's what the police said when they questioned me."

Her blue eyes widened. "You're the one they talked about on the news? But I know you. You would never hurt anyone."

"Well, I know that."

Bridget frowned and poured me another shot. "I think you need this."

What I needed was to prove I did not kill anyone.


	9. 09

Over the next few weeks, the news was chaotic. Rachel's photo was everywhere. The police were still looking for her killer.

They had no idea how close they were to the truth.

I was right under their noses.

And they were too stupid to notice I was hiding in plain sight.


	10. 10

I wanted to talk to Rachel's family about what happened, but I knew I couldn't. I'd seen them on the news, then again in town. And watched them huddle together when their eyes met mine. They were afraid of who they thought I was.

But I was not the man responsible for their daughter's death.

I needed them to know that.

I would do anything to make that happen.

Starting with finding the bastard who did this.

 

**

 

I knew very little about Rachel Saunders—just what the police had reported: her age, where she worked and went to school, and when she disappeared. They kept her home residence private, out of any social media, and that was smart.

According to the officer who interviewed me, her autopsy revealed what I'd suspected when I found her—blunt force trauma to the back of the head.

I couldn't figure out how she'd made it out of the woods with that type of injury. It was a distance from there onto my property.

Had he dumped her during the night?

I told Officer Brandt that I saw her come out of the woods.

I lied.

Not the best thing to do when you're being interrogated for a murder.

I screwed up and he knew that.

Now I was more of a suspect than before.

If I didn't find the person who did this, I was going to spend the rest of my life behind bars.


End file.
